


When Kurt Got Sick

by Ellie226



Series: You, Me, and Baby Make Three [16]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, Infantilism, Multi, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:24:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy and Papa were not entirely prepared for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt was sitting at the coffee table, coloring. Papa was busy cleaning, and he had told Kurt to entertain himself quietly.

Which Kurt was doing, for the most part. Every couple of minutes, he coughed. On Papa’s third trip through the living room, grabbing some books that had migrated from the office to the couch, he stopped. 

Looking at Kurt, he waited. Sure enough, Kurt coughed again. Papa put the books down on the end table, and then he sat on the couch, behind Kurt.

Putting his hand out, he rested it against Kurt’s forehead, “Are you feeling okay baby?” he asked. He thought Kurt’s forehead seemed warm.

Kurt shrugged Papa’s hand off, “I’m fine.” He didn’t look up from his picture. 

Papa didn’t move, watching the baby. And Kurt coughed again. Papa slid off of the couch and settled on the floor next to Kurt. Pulling the smaller man into his lap, Papa felt Kurt’s forehead again.

“Papa,” Kurt whined, trying to wiggle away.

Papa didn’t let him go, “Hold still for me baby. I think you have a fever.”

“I’m fine Papa,” Kurt grumbled, coughing. He hated being sick. 

“You don’t seem fine baby,” Papa contradicted. “I think that we need to check to see if you have a fever.”

“I don’t-”

Papa cut him off, “I want you to go and lay down on the bed. I’m going to grab the thermometer.”

Kurt did as he was told, but he complained as he did it. “I’m not sick. I don’t need to have my temperature taken.” He also coughed the whole way.

Papa ignored it, going to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Pulling out the oral thermometer, he went to the bedroom.

“Open up,” he instructed.

Kurt pursed his lips and shook his head no, eyes widening when Papa put the thermometer down and gave him a look.

“Do I need to swat your bottom?” Papa asked.

Kurt shook his head no again, “I don’t need my temp’ture taken Papa. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll count if I have to baby,” Papa warned.

Kurt opened his mouth at that, glaring at Papa as the thermometer settled under his tongue. 

“Keep your mouth shut,” Papa said quietly, brushing his hair away from Kurt’s face.

Kurt tried, but he couldn’t stop coughing. After the second cough racked Kurt’s body, Papa pulled the thermometer back out. He didn’t want Kurt to bite down on it.

“See Papa,” Kurt said, “No fever. I’m fine. Can I go color now?”

“I don’t think so baby,” Papa said. He stood up and began undressing Kurt. “I think that you need to lie quietly in here. He pulled Kurt’s jeans and underwear down and off. “Sit up,” he instructed, pulling Kurt’s shirt over his head. He left Kurt on the bed for a moment while he threw the clothes in the hamper and then grabbed clean pajamas out of the drawer for Kurt. Quickly redressing him, Papa pulled the covers down and then tucked Kurt in.

“I’m not sick,” Kurt complained, even as he coughed. He didn’t want to be stuck in bed. 

Papa leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. Handing Kurt Beau Bunny and his blanket, he started to leave. “I’m going to get you some juice baby. I want you resting please.”

“Papa,” Kurt whined, sitting up. He lay back down quickly when Dave turned to give him a look.

“Kurt, do we need to have a discussion about listening? Because we can, but I’d rather just get you some juice and let you take a nap.”

Kurt shook his head, “No Papa. I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you,” Papa left the bedroom, not completely closing the door. He stayed in the hallway, listening to make sure that Kurt didn’t move around too much. After a minute, satisfied that Kurt was going to stay in bed, he walked to the kitchen to get some juice.

As he was pouring, he phoned Blaine. “Guess whose kid is sick?” he asked when Blaine answered.

“Shit,” was Blaine’s succinct reply. “Are you sure?”

“He’s coughing, and he’s burning up. Plus, he’s arguing about whether he’s actually sick.”

“Great,” Dave pictured Blaine, standing in his office, irritated. Nobody enjoyed being around Kurt when he was sick. 

At the best of times, Kurt was a little mouthy and defiant. When he was sick, he was a little monster. And that was before they started doing this with him. Adult Kurt was a whiner who refused to go to the doctor or take care of himself. Baby Kurt was like that when he was well. So Sick Baby Kurt? Was not going to be pretty.

“I think I’m going to have to work late,” Blaine tried, hopeful.

“I think I’m going to leave you and run away to Tahiti with another man. And I’m not taking Kurt,” Dave replied.

“Fine,” Dave could hear Blaine sitting down, and then a sound that he thought was the chair swivelling. Apparently, Kurt was not the only person in their house who literally spun when frustrated.

“I need you to stop at the store,” Dave said, “We need a thermometer.”

“We have a thermometer.”

“Not that kind,” Dave told him. “He’s coughing too hard; he can’t hold a thermometer in his mouth. Get one of the ear kind. And cold medicine. The liquid kind works better. More juice, you know he only likes the cranberry. Do not get him cran-raspberry. Please Blaine. Don’t make us listen to that insane rant again. Get Better Bears. Are you writing this down?”

“Yes dear,” Blaine droned. “New thermometer, cold medicine, cran-raspberry-”

Dave interrupted him, “Actually write it down Blaine. Because if you get home, and you don’t have all of this stuff, I’m not sending you out to get it. I’ll go, and you can stay home with him.”

Dave could practically hear Blaine sitting up straight, “Ear thermometer, liquid cold medicine, cranberry juice, and yes, I know that he only likes the kind with no sugar added but you don’t like it when he has the kind with nutra-sweet. Get Better Bears. I’m assuming chicken soup too?”

“Please. And get some fruit punch, the 100% juice kind. He’s going to get sick of cranberry after a while. Get a lot of juice too Blaine. He’ll go through it.”

“Got it. I’m going to get popsicles too. Do you want to cook dinner, or do you want to call for carry out? I could pick up on my way home so you don’t have to worry about cooking.”

Dave sat down on a stool, “Take out. Chinese? I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll be home by 6:30.”

They said their good byes, and then Dave went back to the bedroom to give Kurt his juice. He wasn’t that surprised when he got there to find Kurt sitting up in bed, talking to his bunny.

“And I’m not even sick Beau. Papa’s being mean,” Kurt stopped when he saw Dave standing in the doorway. “Well, I’m not,” he said defiantly.

“Drink some juice,” Papa held the sippy cup to his mouth, and Kurt swallowed, wincing a bit. 

He maybe hadn’t been completely honest with Papa about how he was feeling. His throat was a little scratchy, and his chest hurt when he coughed. And he was maybe just a little bit cold and achy. But he was fine.

“Now,” Papa told Kurt, putting the cup down on the nightstand, “You are going to lay down and close your eyes. I don’t want you moving or getting up. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sick Papa,” Kurt whined.

“One.”

Kurt pouted, “Don’t count. I hate counting.”

“You know how to make me stop. Two.”

Kurt flopped backward, hard. Curling up on his side, with Beau Bunny in his arms, Kurt glared at Papa. “Still not tired,” he bratted.

“Do you want music? I can put on your lullabies,” Dave tried to be sympathetic. Nobody liked being sick.

“No,” Kurt said, sounding affronted. As though he hated lullabies. Even if that was the playlist that Dave had to play when Kurt had trouble napping.

“Alright,” Papa bent to kiss Kurt on the forehead, “I’ll check on you in a bit. Drink your juice and rest.”

Kurt waited until Papa left. Then, flopping onto his back, he kicked the sheets down. He didn’t care that he was cold; this was stupid. 

He wasn’t sick. Hugging Beau Bunny, Kurt started thinking of all the things he was going to tell Daddy when he got home. Because Papa was completely out of control. He couldn’t just make Kurt change into pajamas in the middle of the day just because he had a tiny little tickle in his throat. It was not fair.

The next thing Kurt knew, he was waking up to a heavy hand on his forehead, “Oh, Papa’s right baby,” he heard Daddy saying. “You’ve got a fever. How are you feeling?”

Kurt tried to answer, but his throat really hurt now. After drinking the juice that Daddy offered, he managed to rasp out, “I was fine. It’s all Papa’s fault. He made me go to bed and kept saying I was sick, and now I am.”

Blaine smiled at that, sitting on the bed and running his hand through Kurt’s hair, “That Papa is just mean, huh?”

Kurt nodded resolutely. “Up now?” he said. Daddy was much nicer than Papa. He would understand that Kurt didn’t need to be in bed.

“No.” Kurt made a face. Stupid Papa eavesdropping.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kurt told Papa, glaring at him.

Daddy sat back, giving Kurt a look, “Is that the way we talk to people Kurt?”

Kurt flopped forward, burying his face in Blaine’s lap, “I wanna get up,” he whined. “Bed is boring. It’s not fair.”

“I know baby. You feel yucky, but that’s not an excuse to talk to Papa that way. What do you say?”

Kurt looked at Papa, “Sorry,” he whispered.

Dave nodded, “I know baby. I’m going to make you some soup. Do you want more juice?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head.

“Then I’ll get you some water,” Dave said, going back to the kitchen.

Blaine smiled at Kurt, “I’m going to go and help Papa get you something to eat. Okay baby?”

Kurt nodded, thoroughly miserable at this point. He lay, watching the door, waiting for them to come back to him.

In the kitchen, Dave was going through the bag of stuff that Blaine had brought home. Daddy had grabbed four bottles of juice, which would hopefully get them through this. Unless Kurt went into bronchitis...

Papa decided not to think about that. Cold medicine, and Dave was happy to see he got the nighttime and the daytime medicine. Get Better Bears. The popsicles were in the freezer, and there was soup in the fridge.

“Blaine?” Dave asked, pulling out a small box. “Ear thermometer. I said ear thermometer. Not this,” he held it up.

Blaine shook his head, “They didn’t have any. Apparently, there is a nasty strain of the flu going around. They’re sold out. They only had the rectal thermometers.”

“He’s going to flip out,” Dave said, already feeling exhausted at the prospect of dealing with trantruming, sick, BABY, Kurt. “Can you stay with him while I check a few more stores? Just heat up the soup.”

Blaine grabbed Dave’s arm, “I checked three stores, and called another one. No ear thermometers. Come on Papa, man up.”

“You man up,” Dave replied irritably. “You get to go to work tomorrow. You go break this to him. And then convince him that it’s a good idea. Because I’m not dealing with this tomorrow.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, “It’s not going to be that bad.”

“Fine then,” Dave said, “You handle it. And, if you want, you can take a sick day tomorrow.”

Blaine’s eyes widened, “I’ve got a thing tomorrow at work,” he said slowly, “Big. Important. Work stuff.”

“Coward. Go deal with him now so it’s not a fight for me tomorrow.”

With a disgruntled look, Blaine grabbed the thermometer. He made a quick stop in the bathroom for Vaseline. Then, out to the bedroom.

“Roll over baby,” he instructed calmly. He just needed to approach this as matter of fact as possible. 

“Why?” Kurt asked, watching Daddy suspiciously. 

“Need to check your temperature. On your tummy please.”

Kurt sat up, crab walking away from Daddy. “I don’t need that. I can use the other thermometer.”

Blaine kept reminding himself. This was not a big deal. Kurt was sick. This wasn’t a punishment. “No baby. You can’t stop coughing long enough to do that. Do I need to call Papa in to help you? Or can you do it yourself?”

With a pout, Kurt rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head in his arms. He mumbled something that Blaine didn’t catch.

“What baby?” Blaine asked, stroking Kurt’s back.

“Don’t like this,” he mumbled. “You and Papa are mean to me.”

Daddy quirked a smile at that, “I know. Such a good boy for us.” He helped Kurt get his pajama bottoms down to his knees, and then calmly inserted the thermometer.

Kurt jumped, “Cold Daddy,” he complained.

Blaine kept a hold of the thermometer, using his other hand to rub at Kurt’s back, under his tee-shirt.

“Being such a good boy. I know you don’t like this,” he kept repeating. 

Kurt quieted down after a while, waiting for it to be over. After a few minutes, Daddy took the thermometer out and then wiped Kurt up. Helping him get his pajama bottoms back up, he checked the thermometer.

Kurt was sitting up, looking at him. 

“102 baby. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Kurt, are you supposed to lie to Daddy?”

Kurt shook his head, “Noooooooo. But I don’t wanna be sick.”

Blaine brushed Kurt’s hair away from his forehead. “I know. It’s no fun. But,” he leaned in to whisper, “I bet that Papa will play games with you. And I know we have popsicles. And lots of juice.”

“Not fair Daddy. I don’t wanna be sick.”

“I know baby,” Kurt looked on the verge of tears, and Blaine wanted to prevent that. “But we can’t help it. So what can we do to make this less awful for you?”

Kurt coughed hard, leaning forward. “No doctor?” he said hopefully. “I’m not that sick. I’ll get better.”

Papa came in with a tray then, “Little boys who are sick go to the doctor. Pick something else to bargain with pumpkin.”

Kurt humphed. “Not fair.”

“I know. We’re awful,” Papa said, setting the tray on the bedside table and then climbing into bed next to Kurt. “Bed picnic,” he explained to Blaine. He gestured to the Chinese food. Holding the bowl of soup up, he tried to feed some to Kurt.

“I don’t WANT soup. I want Chinese food,” Kurt said, pushing at Papa’s hand. Some of the soup slopped over the side of the bowl, and Dave carefully handed the bowl to Daddy. Sopping up what he could, he then grabbed Kurt’s arm.

“I think you and I need to have a little chat about acceptable behavior Kurt Elizabeth,” he said, pulling Kurt across his lap. Swatting the bottom of his sleep pants several times, Kurt was soon wiggling and squealing.

“Stop Papa. Sorry,” he begged. Papa’s hand was hard and hurt-y, and Kurt didn’t feel good. It didn’t take much to have him crying.

“Are you going to sit up and eat?”

“Uh huh Papa.”

“No more arguing and sass?”

“Uh huh. No more spanking please Papa.”

“Alright,” Papa landed a few more swats, “Just remember, if you don’t behave, you’ll find yourself right back here. Being sick is not an excuse to be naughty.” 

He easily flipped Kurt back up and had him under the covers. Taking the bowl again, he held the spoon to Kurt’s mouth. 

Kurt, having no desire to get spanked again, ate about half of the soup before he began whining. “No more Papa. I’m not hungry.”

“You can’t have half a bowl of soup baby,” Papa told him.

“Please no more? My tummy is full,” Kurt sounded utterly miserable, and Dave set the bowl down on the nightstand.

“Is it too full for anything?” he asked.

Kurt gave him an appraising look. That was typically a dangerous question. Papa could be tricky. Because he thought that if Kurt was hungry for cookies, that meant hungry. He didn’t understand that sometimes, your tummy could want just cookies but not green beans. Kurt didn’t get how Papa could not understand that. It made perfect sense.

“What else?” he finally asked, buying some time.

Dave smiled at him, “We have popsicles. I thought those might be good on your throat. Do you want a popsicle?”

“Cherry?” Kurt asked, hopeful. 

Blaine nodded, “I know what kind you like.”

“Please Papa? I could be hungry for popsicles.”

Papa picked up the bowl, and Kurt wanted to make a face. He could tell he wasn’t about to like the answer.

“You eat five more bites, and then you can have a popsicle.”

Kurt whined at that, “No more soooooooooooooooooup.”

“Kurt,” Papa warned.

Scowling, Kurt opened his mouth obediently. Daddy counted down for him, and he swallowed the last spoonful with a grimace. “Now popsicles,” he said.

“Yeah, now popsicles,” Daddy was tidying away dinner, and Papa pulled the covers off of Kurt. 

“Let’s get you out to the living room. Bring Beau Bunny and your blanket.”

Kurt followed Papa with a frown, “Why the living room Papa?” he asked.

“Because we don’t want a soupy bed. You’re going to lay down on the couch for me, and I’m going to change the sheets. Can I trust you to be my good boy if I leave you alone?”

Kurt nodded, “Please popsicles Papa?”

Dave nodded, getting Kurt onto the couch and then tucked under two blankets, “I’ll get the popsicles. Do you want cartoons?”

Kurt nodded, hugging Beau, and he was handed the remote before Papa went to retrieve his popsicle.

He turned on the television and channel surfed for a bit, accepting the popsicle with a thank you. After flipping through a bit, he sighed, frustrated. 

There was nothing on. He was bored. He sucked on the popsicle as he kept clicking through channels. Finally, he settled on a horror movie. Daddy and Papa thought that horror movies were not for babies, but Kurt was sick, and Daddy had said Kurt could have something to make it less awful.

He listened to Daddy and Papa moving around in the bedroom, stripping the bed and putting fresh sheets on. When Daddy came out a few minutes later, Kurt held out his arms. 

“Daddy? Come watch TV?”

“Do you need cuddles?” Daddy asked, sitting down on the couch and snuggling against Kurt. He took one look at the screen and gave Kurt a look, “Did Papa see what you were watching?”

Kurt shook his head no, “I like this movie Daddy,” he told Blaine. “It’s good.”

“This seems like a movie that might give little boys nightmares,” Blaine told him. 

“No Daddy,” Kurt told him, “I’m okay.”

Blaine didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t make Kurt change the channel. They watched for a few more minutes, until the little girl crawled out of the well. When Kurt recoiled, pressing back against Daddy, and then turning to bury his face against Blaine, Daddy took the remote.

“And we’re done with this movie now,” he said. “Let’s find something else to watch.”

Kurt nodded, still pressed to Blaine’s neck, “No more movie Daddy?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s a new channel. Charlie and Lola? I think Papa has some episodes recorded for you.”

Kurt nodded again, turning around to look at the television. They watched the cartoon for a few minutes, until Papa came out. Holding a bottle of NyQuil.

Kurt shook his head, pressing into Blaine, “No med’cine Papa,” he said. 

“Yeah baby,” Papa was sympathetic. He grabbed Kurt’s sippy cup from the side table. “We’ve got your water. You just throw it back like a shot for Papa, and you can rinse your mouth.”

“Don’t like it Papa. Doesn’t taste good.”

“I know,” Daddy was sympathetic, but Kurt needed the medicine. “You have to take it. I bet though, that you could get something pretty awesome, if you just swallow and be done with it.”

Kurt scowled, pulling his knees to this chin.

“Kurt,” Papa warned.

“I will. I’m thinking ‘bout what I want.”

Dave thought that Blaine was setting a dangerous precedent, but they needed Kurt to take the damn medicine. 

Kurt knew that they would make him go to the doctor if he was really sick; they had before. Wrinkling his forehead, he finally said, “I want a s’prise tomorrow Daddy. When you get home from work. A good s’prise too. No cheaping out on me.”

Blaine nodded, smiling. “I will bring you home a surprise.”

“All the medicine though Kurt. No arguing when it’s time to take another dose,” Papa interjected.

“A good surprise Daddy. Really good if I gotta take more.”

Daddy nodded, and Kurt took the spoon. Pinching his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, he quickly chugged the medicine. It was followed up with ice water.

“Shall we watch more Charlie and Lola?” Daddy asked Kurt.

“Uh huh.” Kurt settled comfortably against Daddy, lifting his feet for Papa to sit on the couch, and then resting them in Dave’s lap. Papa shook Kurt’s blanket over him, and Kurt cuddled with Beau, fingers resting in his mouth. He couldn’t really suck on them because his nose was stuffed up, but he kept them there for comfort. 

He made it 10 minutes before he was out, slipping until his head was pillowed in Daddy’s lap, snoring slightly through his stuffy nose.

Papa shifted, taking Kurt to the bedroom and tucking him in, and then he began getting ready for bed.

“What are you doing?” Blaine asked him. “It’s only 9:00.”

Dave snorted, “Tomorrow is going to be hell. Especially once he understands that I’m really taking him to the doctor. I need rest to deal with that.”

That garnered a sympathetic nod, and Blaine decided to go to bed as well. The tantrum that being told he had to go to the doctor was going to cause was probably going to require a phone call to Daddy at work. They both needed all the sleep they could get.


	2. Chapter 2

Dave woke Kurt up enough to take a second dose of NyQuil around 3:00 AM. He was still pretty out of it, and he didn’t even object. He did tell Papa about the sparkly blue men, and their plans for the crown jewels, but as soon as Dave nodded and told Kurt that was nice, he passed right back out.

Blaine shook him awake enough to give him a hug and a kiss good bye, “Have a good day baby,” he murmured. “Be good for Papa.”

Kurt nodded sleepily, “K Daddy. Bring me s’prises.”

Blaine smiled, brushing hair off of Kurt’s forehead and standing, “Of course. I’ll see you after work.”

He walked out to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the travel mug of coffee from Dave.

“He’s still sleeping?” Dave asked him.

“I woke him up enough to say good bye,” Blaine said. “I figured your day was going to be bad enough without me upsetting him first thing. He told me not to forget his surprise and then fell back asleep. Doctor today?”

Dave nodded, dreading that idea. Kurt hated the doctor. “I need to call and see if they can get him in, but I think we should. It’s Friday; we should make sure that he’s not really sick before we go into the weekend.”

Blaine nodded. Giving Dave a kiss, he left for work, “Call me if you need back up,” he offered, smiling one last time before he shut the door behind himself.

Dave had his phone out, and he was punching in the number for Kurt’s doctor. The nurse found an appointment for them at 10:30, and Dave looked at the clock. It was almost 9:00. It would take half an hour to get into the car and to the doctor. He should wake Kurt up. 

Deciding to make breakfast first, he pulled down a box of cream of wheat. It wasn’t something Kurt ate very much, but it was what Dave’s mother always made when he was sick. He made enough for both of them, adding in bananas, butter, and honey, and then put the bowls on a tray with orange juice and coffee for himself. He made a sippy cup full of orange juice for Kurt and added a cup of herbal tea. 

Carrying the food back to Kurt, Dave settled the tray on the dresser and then knelt beside Kurt. Gently rubbing his back, he said, “Baby, time to wake up for me.”

Kurt grumbled, pushing his face against his pillow, “No Papa. Sleepytimes.”

Dave smiled at that, “No baby. No more sleepy time right now. I made you some breakfast. Sit up; it’s yummy.”

“My throat hurts,” Kurt grumbled. “I don’t wanna eat.”

“I know baby. Come on. Sit up,” Dave held Kurt sit up, propping pillows behind him, bringing the tray over, he set it in front of Kurt. “Are you going to feed yourself this morning?”

Kurt shook his head, pouty, but he did willingly open his mouth when Papa held a spoon up. 

“My good boy,” Dave praised. He continued feeding Kurt, giving him a chance to drink every couple of bites, and bolting down his own breakfast while Kurt got his juice and tea down. 

When they were done, he lifted the tray and carried to the kitchen. Dumping everything in the sink, he went back to the bathroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed, “Alright baby, you’re about to not like me for a couple of minutes here. I need to take your temp again.”

Kurt started to object, and Dave cut him off. “We have to do it baby. And, just so you get all the bad news at once, you have a doctor’s appointment this morning. Neither of these things are negotiable, but I’m willing to reward good behavior. Daddy’s bringing you your surprise after work. Now’s the time to ask for stuff Kurt; we feel bad that you’re sick.”

Kurt glared at Papa for a minute, and then he said, “I wanna play beauty parlor when we get home. And I get to take photographs. And you can’t erase them.”

“For how long?” Papa figured he should pretend to put up a fight. He didn’t like beauty parlor, but Kurt needed to go to the doctor.

“Two hours.”

Papa nodded at that, “You have to go to the doctor and let me take your temperature. And, if you misbehave, I’m going to take time away from that two hours.”

Kurt nodded eagerly. Daddy and Papa never let him play beauty parlor. Not anymore. Not since the time he convinced Blaine to let him use a flat iron his hair. He had mostly been curious, but the results were so hilarious that Papa had photographed it and then put the pictures up on facebook.

“We need to get you ready to go then. What would you like to wear?”

Kurt shrugged. That seemed like too big of a decision to make, and he really just wanted to go back to bed.

“Let’s take your temp first,” Dave told, a little worried. Kurt always had an opinion on clothes. On everyone’s clothes. For him to not care what he was wearing, he must be feeling really rotten.

Kurt rolled onto his tummy, cringing. He hated this. Stupid baby thermometer. He should have used his deal for a new thermometer. Papa was talking with him while he took his temperature.

“We’ll go to the doctor, and then we’ll come home. What would you like for lunch?”

“I dunno,” Kurt mumbled, face resting in his folded arms.

“Alright, we’ll decide after the doctor. We can stop and pick up some take out if you want baby, or I’ll make you whatever you want. Okay?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then, when we get home, we’ll eat lunch.” Papa kept up like that, trying to take Kurt’s mind off of what was happening. After a few minutes, he checked, wincing. Higher than last night. “102.7 baby. Let’s get you some medicine before we go.”

Kurt whined at that, pulling up his pajama bottoms and then sitting. Papa held up a hand. “Two hours of beauty parlor baby. Do you want to start losing some of that?”

Kurt shook his head. He wanted those pictures. Papa gave him his medicine, following it up with the leftover tea from breakfast. Grabbing some loose cotton pants and a long sleeved tee shirt, Papa got Kurt dressed. It wasn’t up to Kurt’s normal standards, but he was too sick to care.

He didn’t even care when Papa picked him up and carried him down to the car. Dave wrapped him in a blanket and then grabbed a bottled water and a pillow. After getting Kurt settled in back, so he could stretch out, he got into the front seat.

“Do you want music baby?” he asked.

Kurt shook his head. He had to get ready to be a grown up for a little bit; lullabies were not going to help that.

Papa drove to the doctor, thinking about what they needed to do. Kurt had fallen asleep, and he debated carrying him in, finally deciding to wake him up to walk. It was a fine line sometimes, between what Kurt needed and what he would allow. He was feeling little at the moment, but Dave had no desire to embarrass him.

“Come on baby,” Papa whispered. “We have to go in. Can you walk for me?”

Kurt nodded sleepily, and Dave walked with him into the doctor’s office. After checking Kurt in, he sat down on a chair. Kurt leaned against him, miserable.

Papa wanted to help Kurt feel better, but he was at a loss. He settled for curling an arm around Kurt and waiting.

Luckily for them, even with the mutant illness going around and making every place sell out of thermometers, the doctor wasn’t too busy this early in the morning. He got Kurt back relatively quickly.

Kurt clung to Papa’s hand, not wanting to face the scary doctor by himself, and Dave followed him back. He stood by patiently as the nurse weighed Kurt and checked his blood pressure and temperature.

Then, they waited some more. Kurt hopped off the table, walking to the chair where Papa sat, and leaning against him. He wanted to be on Papa’s lap, but he was worried that the doctor would walk in. All of this was making him very anxious and frustrated, and he just wanted to go home so he could feel normal again.

Dave stood, picking Kurt up, and settled him back onto the table. Kurt whined wordlessly, reaching for him, and Dave settled himself directly behind him. “I’ll stay right here baby.”

Kurt leaned back against him, not even bothering to sit up straight when the doctor came in.

“Mr. Hummel,” the doctor greeted him. “Not feeling well?”

Kurt nodded, tired.

“Says here sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. Anything else?”

“Just achy,” Kurt said.

Dave piped in then, “And he’s got a fever. 102.7 when we checked before we came. He took some dayquil about 20 minutes ago.”

The doctor nodded, and began feeling Kurt’s neck. “Lymph nodes are swollen.” Looking into Kurt’s mouth, he nodded. He went through the exam quickly, nodding when he was done.

“Well, you have bronchitis. It’s possible that you have strep too. I’m going to give you a broad spectrum antibiotic and some cough syrup, and you should be fine.”

“Does it have to be syrup?” Kurt hated cough syrup. It tasted like burning death.

“Sorry,” the doctor nodded sympathetically, “The type I’m giving you is only syrup. And the syrup works better for coughs anyway.”

“Okay,” Kurt said, not happy.

“You’ll need to fill these prescriptions immediately. The nurse will be in to give you the shot, and then you can be on your way.”

“I don’t need a shot,” Kurt said quickly. Dave let a hand rest on Kurt’s hip, squeezing gently.

“We could try just the antibiotic, but I’m concerned that your fever is still this high on cold medication.”

“He’ll take the shot,” Dave said calmly. 

“Mr. Hummel?” the doctor looked at Kurt, who nodded slowly after he glanced at Dave’s face. 

The doctor gave Dave an odd look, but then he nodded. “The nurse will be in shortly.”

The door had barely closed before Kurt objected, “I don’t want a shot,” he sounded frantic.

“I know,” Dave moved so he was in front of Kurt. “One little pinch, then we’re done. Are you hungry? What would you like for lunch?”

“Papa,” Kurt whispered desperately, “No shots. No shots pleeeeeeeeease.”

“Just the one. Promise baby. Can you be my brave boy?” Dave kept his voice low.

Kurt shook his head, panicking, and Dave grabbed him by both arms, “Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it, but it’s going to happen.”

Kurt whimpered, and Dave smiled at him, “Beauty parlor? When we get home? We can play. And anything else you want to play baby.”

The nurse walked in then. Giving them both a look, she nodded at Kurt. “I need you over the end of the table, and lower your pants.

“What?” Kurt had been extremely unhappy; he was now edging toward a panic attack.

“Sorry Mr. Hummel,” the nurse smiled sympathetically, “I need to give the injection somewhere fleshy.”

Kurt was shaking his head, but Dave gently lifted him off the table and helped position him. Leaning forward to hold Kurt’s hands, he made eye contact, “Almost done Kurt. We’ll get this over with, and then we can go home.”

The nurse studiously ignored what was happening, and Kurt held still, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his head to their clasped hands. He squeaked at the injection, and Dave squeezed reassuringly. 

“And we’re done,” the nurse said, slipping the waistband of Kurt’s pants back up. “Your prescription is at the front desk.”

Dave nodded his thanks. Leaning back over, he wiped a tear off of Kurt’s cheek, “So brave. Such a good boy,” he whispered.

Kurt whimpered a little, and held his arms out. “Don’t like shots,” he whispered, allowing Papa to hug him for a minute. 

“I know. You were so brave. I think we should call Daddy and tell him all about it.”

Kurt nodded at that, and Dave asked, “Are you ready to go? We can stop at the pharmacy on the way home.”

“‘K.”

Dave led Kurt to the car, stopping to give the co-pay and grab the prescriptions. 

“Front seat,” Kurt said.

“Alright baby,” Papa got him settled into the front seat, tucking the blanket around him and handing him the bottled water. Brushing his thumb over Kurt’s cheek, he asked, “What would you like for lunch?”

“Do we have more soup?” Kurt whispered, his voice scratchy. It had been a long morning, and he was tired.

Dave got into the car, “We do. We have the soup Daddy brought home yesterday, and we have some frozen soup that you made.”

“Chicken rice?”

Dave nodded, “Yeah, we have chicken rice. Do you want anything else?”

Kurt shook his head, closing his eyes, and Papa decided to let him rest. He went through the pharmacy drive-through, and then hurried Kurt home. He opted against waking Kurt up, carrying him carefully up the stairs and depositing him in bed before he ran back downstairs to get the medicine from the car. 

Kurt napped long enough that Papa had a chance to defrost and heat the soup. When he heard coughing, he took the bowl back to the bedroom.

Where he found his baby, sitting up in bed, coughing so hard that he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh sweetpea,” Dave set the soup down, sitting next to Kurt on the bed and rubbing his back. “We’ll get some soup in you, and then you can take your cough syrup. Do you want to play beauty parlor after that?”

Kurt shook his head no, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Papa, “Don’t feel good,” he whimpered through the racking cough.

“I know baby. You feel awful; I know.” Dave rubbed his back, waiting for the coughing spasm to pass. When Kurt could get a deep breath in, Dave offered him soup, “I bet this will help a little.”

Kurt shook his head, “Want sleep Papa.”

Dave propped the pillows on the bed behind Kurt so he could sit up, “Just eat some soup baby, then I’ll let you sleep.”

Kurt rested against the pillows. He was too tired to argue. He let Papa give him soup, and he didn’t fight when it came time to take the cough syrup. 

Dave brushed Kurt’s hair off of his forehead. “How about a bath baby,” he suggested.

Kurt shook his head, “Tired,” he insisted. 

“Okay,” Dave was starting to feel a little worried. Kurt argued when he was sick. He whined and acted like a brat. Post-nap Kurt was being far too compliant. “Let’s take your temperature first.

That got a whined, “Papaaaaaaaaa,” but Kurt said it as he rolled onto his tummy, and he went quiet after that, still and silent as Dave checked his temperature.

103.1. Higher than it had been at the doctor’s. “New plan baby. You need a bath,” Dave told him, pulling the covers down and off. Picking Kurt up, he carried him, whining, into the bathroom.

Running a lukewarm bath, he stripped Kurt down and helped him into the bath. 

“Too cold Papa,” Kurt whimpered, trying to grip Dave’s arms and scramble back out of the tub.

“Give it a second baby. You need to stay-” Dave felt like Kurt had suddenly sprouted 15 additional arms. It seemed like he was flailing everywhere, trying to get out, “Stop Kurt!” Dave told him. “You’re going to get a smacked bottom,” he warned. When that threat didn’t do anything, he had to follow through, lightly swatting Kurt’s wet skin several times.

Kurt wailed. “Paaaaaapaaa! Not faaaaaaaiiiiiiirrrrrr! It’s too coolllllllllllddddddddd.”

“I know,” Dave was trying to remain calm, but he needed to get Kurt’s fever down. “Just hold still baby,” he tried to reassure Kurt, but Kurt wasn’t having it.

He wasn’t actively fighting anymore. He wasn’t trying to get out of the tub. Instead, he was slumped and crying, “You’re mean Papa. I want out. It’s too cold. I’m telling Daddy when he gets home. You’re the meanest. Let me out.” He kept repeating himself, alternately complaining about Papa and promising to tattle to Daddy.

Dave finally quit worrying about making Kurt calm and focused on the task at hand. He had to get Kurt cooled off. Then, he’d get him redressed. Then, bed. And tomorrow, or maybe the day after, the marginally less insane version of his baby would be back. He just had to get through this. People spent years in captivity. Dave could handle 72 hours of Kurt being sick.

Getting Kurt out of the bath, he rested a hand on Kurt’s forehead. Definitely cooler. He redressed his limp and crying boyfriend in pajamas, and then put him in bed.

“More blankets Papa,” Kurt said, curling onto his side and trying to use his feet to pull the duvet over himself.

“Do you want some tea?” Dave asked, pulling the sheet and the blanket over Kurt. “Stop. You can’t use comforter right now pumpkin. Your fever will go right back up.”

“No! NO! NONONONONONONONONONONONONO!” Kurt wailed, coughing. He rolled onto his back so he could thump his heels against the mattress.

Dave rearranged the blankets, then stood up. “I’m going to make you some tea. I’ll be back in a minute.” He left, taking the duvet with him. He forced himself to continue to the kitchen, ignoring Kurt’s shriek of frustration.

Dave breathed deeply as he made a mug of tea for Kurt. Adding honey, he closed his eyes and took another few deep breaths. Looking at the clock, he almost swore. He had another 3 hours, minimum, before Blaine was going to get home. 

Carrying the tea back to Kurt, his irritation at Blaine and Kurt disappeared. Kurt was curled up in a ball on the bed, crying miserably. When he saw Dave, he held his arms out.

“Sorry Papa,” he rasped. “I’m sorry.”

Dave picked Kurt up, setting the mug of tea down, “I know. You don’t feel good, so you’re acting cranky.” 

He swayed a little until Kurt calmed down. Then, he grabbed the tea and Kurt’s bunny. “What do you say about cuddling on the couch? We’ll put on cartoons, and you can sleep if you want.”

“You too,” Kurt said, “And I need my blanky Papa.”

Dave grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Kurt’s shoulders, “Blanky and Beau. We’ll cuddle till Daddy gets home.”

Kurt curled against Papa, nodding, and Dave kept murmuring to him. “We’ll cuddle, and we’ll watch television. And when Daddy gets home, you can tell him all about how awful your day was. Maybe we can get him to let you use your flat iron again?”

Kurt giggled a little at that, setting off more coughing. Dave rubbed his back as they walked to the couch. 

Once they were sitting, he helped Kurt drink his tea while they looked for cartoons. By the time he found something, the tea was gone, and Kurt was blinking sleepily. 

Resting his head in Papa’s lap, Kurt hugged Beau. Papa had covered him with his blanket, and he drifted off while Dave played with his hair.

He woke up, stiff and confused, to Daddy kneeling in front of him. 

“How are you feeling now baby?”

“Yucky,” he whispered, surprised. His voice was almost gone.

Papa shifted underneath him, “He needs more juice,” Papa mumbled, still waking up from his nap. “And it’s time for cough syrup.”

Dave was exhausted from his day with Kurt, and he happily let Blaine take over for the evening. Kurt wasn’t good for much at this point, mostly just swallowing whatever was offered to him and complaining about Dave.

Papa extricated himself from their cuddles, leaving Blaine to comfort the baby. 

“An’ he made me get a shot Daddy,” Kurt was complaining, more breath than voice at this point. “And take the yucky cough syrup. And a stupid bath that was too cold.”

Blaine nodded, “Poor baby.” 

Kurt managed to make it through most of his complaints before Dave returned with more soup and his antibiotics, which he took. Then, the codeine in the cough syrup knocked him out again.

Dave carried Kurt to bed, tucking him in with Beau, and then returning to the couch, where he collapsed next to Blaine.

“Rough day?” Blaine asked, giving him a kiss.

Dave nodded, leaning into him, “Can you just order something? I don’t want to move. Ever.”

“Was it that bad?”

Dave shook his head, eyes still closed. “No. It was worse the last time he got sick. Although, the fact that I could spank him this time might have had something to do with that. It was just long. And he had to get a shot, and you know how feels about needles.”

Blaine nodded sympathetically, “Poor baby,” he said. 

“Poor Papa,” Dave asserted. 

“Poor Papa,” Blaine agreed, “I’ll order you some pizza, and we can watch TV. Does that sound good?”

Dave nodded. Kurt would be up again tomorrow morning; hopefully, he would be feeling better by then.


	3. Chapter 3

Papa woke Kurt up before he went to bed, wanting to give him another dose of cough syrup. Kurt took it without complaints, falling back into a deep and troubled sleep, Daddy on one side and Papa on the other.

Dave felt himself jerked out of a dream by the bed shaking, and a loud, barking noise. Kurt was sitting up, coughing hard.

When Dave sat up to ask if he wanted water, he reached a hand out to cup Kurt’s forehead. He didn’t bother asking if Kurt needed water, instead smacking Blaine.

“Get up. We need to go to the ER. He’s burning up.”

Kurt looked at him, shaking his head, even as he struggled to get air in between coughing. 

“Yeah baby, we have to go. Come on, Daddy and I are going to take you. Blaine, get your ass out of bed,” Dave physically dragged Blaine up and out. “Get shoes on. We need to go.”

Dave threw on a long sleeved tee shirt and shimmied into his jeans. Throwing sneakers over bare feet, he swooped Kurt up and wrapped him in the blanket from the foot of the bed.

Blaine was still moving slowly, half-asleep and confused. 

“Blaine,” Dave didn’t have the patience for this, “Get your shoes.” He settled Kurt in the rocking chair, grabbing Blaine’s jeans and throwing them at him. Shoving sneakers on Blaine’s feet, he picked Kurt back up. “Grab the keys and wallets. I’m getting him a bottled water.”

Dave carried Kurt out to the car, relaxing slightly when he realized that the cold, night air seemed to be helping with his cough. “Breathe deep baby,” he whispered. “You’re going to be fine.”

Kurt’s face was pale, even for Kurt, and he looked as panicked as Dave felt. Papa put him in the backseat, strapping him in. “Daddy’s going to ride back here with you. I’m going to drive, and we’ll be there soon. Okay?” Trying to step away, Dave was surprised to feel Kurt’s arms tighten around his neck.

“You Papa,” Kurt whispered. “Want you. Daddy drive.”

Dave looked at Blaine. The night air had apparently woken him up, and Dave nodded, “Okay, Daddy’s going to drive us. Let go so I can get in.”

Kurt slowly released Papa, but he was glued to him the minute Dave climbed into the backseat.

Dave rubbed his back, helping keep him propped up, as Blaine drove to the nearest Emergency Room. When they got there, Dave didn’t stop to think about not embarrassing Kurt. He picked up and carried him inside.

The hospital was as busy as you would expect on a Friday night in a big city, and Blaine resigned himself to waiting; Kurt had just been to the doctor. It couldn’t be that bad.

Dave had no such plans. Sitting Kurt next to Blaine, he squatted, “Stay here with Daddy,” he whispered, keeping his voice low. Kurt gripped his hands, but Dave shook his head, “You need to wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Kurt whined a little bit, but Blaine threw an arm around his shoulder and began murmuring in his ear, allowing Dave to go up to the front desk. “We’ll get you checked out, and then we’ll go home again. What do you think we should do tomorrow?”

Kurt shrugged, coughing, and Blaine kept up the patter. He talked about what they would do on Saturday, and what he thought Kurt should write about. He stopped talking when he heard Dave.

“I DON’T CARE THAT YOU HAVE OTHER PEOPLE HERE. HE CAN’T WAIT. NOW, ARE YOU GOING TO TREAT HIM, OR DO I NEED TO TALK TO SOMEONE ELSE?” 

Dave got progressively louder, pacing and yelling at the charge nurse, and finally, a doctor came out. After laying a hand on Dave’s arm and talking for a moment, he followed Papa over to Kurt.

“I’ll take a look sir, but you need to wait your turn. We base treatment on who needs it the most, and bronchitis typically isn’t going to be seen very quickly.” 

Squatting, the doctor raised a stethoscope to Kurt’s chest, listening for a minute. He stood up, gesturing for a nurse, “We need a wheelchair.” Looking down at Kurt, he said, “Well, Mr.-” he stopped, and Blaine helpfully supplied.

“Hummel.”

“Mr. Hummel. We’re going to get you looked at.” 

“We don’t need a wheelchair,” Dave said, seeing how long everything was taking. Picking Kurt up, he looked at the doctor, “Lead the way.”

Dave followed the doctor back to a bed, surrounded by curtains, and Dave settled Kurt down. He wasn’t on the bed 15 seconds before Dave was demanding to know what they were going to do next.

“Sir, I need you to calm down. Now, we’ve brought your boyfriend back, and I need you to stop yelling so that we can take a look at him.”

Dave’s face darkened, but Kurt whimpered at that moment, causing him to rush back to the bed. Interlacing his fingers with Kurt, he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I’d like to know what you’re planning on doing.”

A nurse popped her head in the curtained area, “Well, first we’re going to get his blood pressure and get some questions answered. And someone needs to fill out forms.”

She had an intern with her who started rapid firing questions as Kurt squirmed and whined his way through a blood pressure check, gripping Dave’s hand. The doctor who had lead them back disappeared while Dave was focused on Kurt. Blaine sat in the chair next to the bed, quietly filling in what seemed like a never-ending insurance form.

The intern gave Dave a weird look when he realized that Kurt wasn’t answering any of the questions, but Dave simply stepped between the intern and Kurt. Nobody was going to make Kurt feel badly right now. He was sick and tired and yes, a little bit whiny. And he was entitled. 

“Mr. Hummel,” the intern tried to address Kurt, who promptly wrapped both arms around Dave and pressed his face into Papa’s body. It was too much. He didn’t want to answer questions. He didn’t want the stupid hurt-y blood pressure cuff that felt like it was cutting off circulation. He wanted somebody to make his chest stop hurting so he could go home and sleep for the next 18 months.

“You’re fine baby,” Dave’s terrifying glare was no longer focused on the poor intern. Instead, he was stroking Kurt’s hair and murmuring reassurances.

“Mr. Hummel?”

The intern was apparently not very bright, and he was now facing Dave’s scariest face again, “He’s not feeling well. I’m the one who took him to the doctor today. I’ve been with him since we were 19, and I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than that. I’m sure I can answer any questions you have.”

This wasn’t the response the intern was looking for, but luckily for him, a resident peeked her head in at that moment, “Hi. Is everything okay?”

Kurt whimpered again, frustrated and tired, and Dave finally just climbed into the bed next to him, pulling Kurt up into his lap and rocking slightly. “Oh, we’re just peachy,” Dave said sarcastically. “I bring in my boyfriend, who can’t breathe, and we’re now filling out forms and answering questions about whether there’s a family history of dementia.”

The resident, not wanting a scene, moved to placate Dave. “Why don’t you let me take this,” she suggested to the intern. “Bed 7 needs sutures.” The intern turned tail and practically ran away from the large scary man who was now cuddling with his boyfriend; as he went to grab a suture kit, he decided to cross emergency medicine off the list of specialities he was considering.

“I’m Dr. Sanders,” the resident introduced herself. “Mr. Hummel? I need you to sit up so I can listen to your chest.”

Kurt did as he was told, after a much prodding from Papa, and he winced as the icy stethoscope touched his chest. After listening for a moment, she took the stethoscope away and begin tapping Kurt’s chest.

Kurt whined again, trying to squirm away. It wasn’t very productive since Dave was right there, but he didn’t want this woman touching him anymore.

“Shhhhh. Hold still,” Dave murmured.

“Want home,” Kurt whispered at Papa. He didn’t care that he was acting like a four year old. He wanted his bed and Beau bunny. Now.

“I know. As soon as they check you out baby.”

Dr. Sanders made a notation in the chart. “Alright, I’m ordering a chest x-ray to be sure, but it appears that your boyfriend has pneumonia. He’s fine, but I’m going to have the nurse come in here with an oxygen mask just so he’s not struggling quite so much.”

“How long?” Dave asked.

“How long?” the doctor wasn’t sure what Dave was referring to.

“How long until the chest x-ray?” Dave was rubbing Kurt’s back firmly, trying to keep him calm.

“I’m not sure. It’s a Friday night; radiology is backed up. They will get to you as soon as they can, but once the oxygen starts, your boyfriend should be feeling much better.”

Dave nodded at that, thanking the doctor, and she went on to her next patient.

“Wanna go home Papa,” Kurt mumbled, miserable. He was already in Dave’s lap, and it still wasn’t enough contact. He needed more Papa.

“I know. We want to go home too baby. The doctors are going to get you fixed up, and then we can.”

The nurse returned a moment later, fitting Kurt with an oxygen mask and a monitor. “You need to keep this on until we send you to x-ray,” she instructed. Looking critically at Kurt, she directed herself to Dave, “We’ll try to get him in as quickly as possible. He may be more comfortable under the covers.”

Dave nodded his thanks, and they were left alone, just the three of them. Kurt didn’t wait 30 seconds before he was whining his discontent. 

“Home. I want home now,” his voice was creaky still, and Dave offered him the water bottle.

Blaine stood up and walked to Kurt’s side. “We know. You can’t though. So we’re going to stay here until the doctors are all done.”

Dave stood up, transferring Kurt onto the bed. Getting him covered and pressing buttons until the bed was propped at a good angle for Kurt was tricky since he was working with only one hand. Kurt wouldn’t let go of the other.

“It’s going to be a while,” Dave said to Blaine.

“Yeah. I’m going to go and find some coffee for us. Do you want some more juice Kurt?” he asked.

“Nooooooooo,” Kurt whined, trying to wiggle his way out of bed and back into Dave’s lap. More Papa. He needed more Papa. He didn’t like this hospital. It stunk, and the sheets were scratchy. His throat hurt. He wanted home.

He had enough time to pontificate, albeit softly, on all the things that were wrong with the hospital before an orderly walked in, pushing a wheelchair.

“I can carry him,” Dave said, readying himself to pick Kurt up again.

“Hospital policy,” the orderly replied, helping Kurt from the bed and into the chair. “You can wait here. I’ll be back with your friend as soon as we’re done.”

“No,” Kurt insisted. He’d allowed himself to be shifted to the wheelchair, but he wanted Papa with him. He clutched Dave’s hand. He wasn’t going up to x-ray without Papa.

“Or you can come along,” the orderly allowed. “But you’ll have to wait in the hallway while they do the x-rays.”

“Fine,” Dave said. He walked alongside the wheelchair as they were wheeled up to the third floor for tests. Kurt whined when he was forced to let go of Papa’s hand so they could actually x-ray him, but luckily, the tech had a preschooler.

“We’re just going to do this really fast,” she narrated, “Then you can be on your way. Have you ever had an x-ray before?” she seemed wholly unconcerned that Kurt was acting like a small child, treating him the same way she would a terrified pediatric patient.

Kurt was put slightly more at ease by this, and he allowed himself to be moved away from Papa, after receiving assurances that Dave wasn’t going to leave.

“He can talk to you the whole time, but I can’t have him in the room. Now, we’re going to have you sit here,” she went over what was happening as she positioned Kurt’s body, and he let himself be moved.

Finished, Kurt was helped back to the wheelchair, and they were returned to the ER. Blaine had returned to Kurt’s bed to find both of them missing, and he was relieved when Kurt was wheeled back.

“X-rays,” Dave explained, taking the proffered cup.

They tried to keep Kurt entertained while they waited for whatever was coming next. The oxygen seemed to be helping, but he still felt crummy. This was not translating to the best behavior, and Dave couldn’t bring himself to threaten Kurt when he obviously felt so awful.

Blaine had no such compunctions. “Kurt,” he whispered fiercely in his boyfriend’s ear, “What do you think the other patients would think if they heard a big boy like you getting spanked? Hmm? Because I will if you don’t stop trying to take that mask off.”

“I don’t like it. The ‘lastics digging into my cheeks.” Kurt protested breathily.

“Well, we like it. We especially like the part where you get to breathe now. So knock it off before we find out what everyone here would do if they saw your bare bottom getting spanked.”

Kurt settled a little bit at that, and luckily for them all, the doctor returned shortly. The news Dr. Sanders brought with her was slightly less welcome.

“It’s definitely bilateral pneumonia,” she opened with. “We need to start an IV antibiotic. He’s going to be admitted.”

“No,” Kurt protested, “I don’t wanna stay here. I wanna go home.” His fear of shots was trumped by his overall fear of hospitals. 

“Shhhh,” Dave said calmly. “Does he have to be admitted? Once the IV’s done, is there something you’ll be doing here that we can’t do at home?”

“It would be best if he stayed.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

If it wasn’t for the blind panic that Kurt was now feeling, he probably would have appreciated hearing Papa talk to somebody else the way that he normally talked to a recalcitrant Kurt.

“Let’s get the IV started, and we’ll see.”

Dr. Sanders left, and Kurt finally succeeded in wiggling out from under the covers and plastering himself against Dave. “Not staying,” he insisted.

Daddy managed to make himself sound stern, “You’re getting back in bed young man,” he whisper threatened, “Or you and I are having a discussion.”

Kurt whimpered, bare feet cold on the tile floor. He stepped onto Dave’s shoes so they weren’t touching the cold tile, and he hugged Dave. “Noooooooooooooo,” he whined.

Papa unceremoniously picked him up and dumped him back in bed. “I’m going to see if they’ll let us take you home, but you need to be a good boy for us baby.” 

Daddy was roughly tucking the covers back around Kurt’s legs, “Don’t get out again,” he told Kurt. “We’ll have them do the IV, and then we’ll see.”

That was not the thing to tell Kurt, who began complaining at the idea of a needle. “You said just one Papa,” he told Dave.

Blaine looked at Dave quizzically.

“Just one at the doctor earlier,” Dave explained. “I didn’t know we’d be here. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have promised just one because I didn’t know.”

“Noooooooooooo,” Kurt whined. He was all out of his limited supply of rational adult for the day. He didn’t care that Papa hadn’t known. He didn’t want more needles.

“Yes,” Blaine said. “The nurse will come in and do the IV needle. We’ll try to get them to let you come home, but you have to stay if the doctor says so.”

“No no no no no,” Kurt whined, kicking his feet a little. He was having a temper tantrum, but he couldn’t be loud.

Dave pinned his legs, “Kurt,” he whispered, “Stop! We don’t want to embarrass you, but you are getting the IV. Knock it off.”

Papa might feel badly, but this was going to happen. Luckily for Daddy and Papa, the nurse chose that moment to return. 

“Okay Mr. Hummel. We need to get this IV started. Are you right handed, or are you left handed?”

Kurt looked at her, “Yes. Yes. I am one of those things.”

“Could you give us a minute?” Blaine used the smile that he had found got him most things, and the nurse smiled in return, stepping away.

“Enough,” Daddy whispered. “You’re going to let them put the IV in Kurt. I’m not fooling around now; if you want to see if we’ll spank you in a public place, keep it up.”

“No!” Kurt said. He didn’t want an IV. He didn’t want to be sick. He didn’t want to be here. Daddy and Papa were mean and not fair, and he was NOT getting a stupid IV.

“Fine,” Blaine responded, his eyes flashing. He flipped Kurt onto his stomach and placed a restraining hand in the middle of his back. Lifting his right hand, he cracked it down on Kurt’s cotton covered bottom half a dozen times. He wasn’t holding back; they didn’t have time to coax the baby into being reasonable. “Are you going to behave yourself?” he asked.

“NO,” Kurt almost yelled at that point, his voice cracking. Daddy was mean. 

Blaine jerked Kurt’s pajama bottoms down, thanking whatever deity was watching over them, making the volume of the ER slightly lower than the average high school cafeteria when Kurt let out a wail. Another half dozen smacks were laid across Kurt’s backside, and Blaine asked again, “Are you going to behave yourself?”

“No no no no no nonono,” he whimpered.

Blaine kept going, spanking Kurt slightly harder. His palm was stinging, but they needed to get this IV in.

“I’m going to outlast you here sweetpea. Might as well just do what you’re told,” Daddy warned.

With frustrated sobs, Kurt finally nodded, “K. I’ll behave.”

“Good boy,” Blaine said, instantly stopping the spanking. He pulled Kurt’s pajama bottoms back up, and got him seated again. Fixing the oxygen mask, he bent so he was eye level with Kurt, “We’re not doing this to be mean. Let’s get the IV in, and then we’ll see about them letting you come home.”

Kurt nodded, scrubbing at his eyes. When then nurse came back in, she took one look at his red rimmed eyes, and then gave Blaine and Dave a glare. “I need to speak with Mr. Hummel privately please.”

That didn’t get the expected response. Rather than relief, Kurt grabbed Dave’s arm, “Noooooooooo,” he whined, “Don’t gooooooo.”

“I’ll step out,” Blaine offered. He could tell what the nurse was thinking. Kurt was insisting on Dave staying; maybe Blaine leaving would placate her enough to not call security.

“I need to speak with him privately please,” the nurse repeated. 

“No,” Kurt told her, gripping Dave’s arm tightly enough to leave bruises.

“It’s okay,” Dave told him, unprying fingers. “We’ll just be be outside. We’ll come back in a minute, once the nurse tells us we can.”

“No,” Kurt was nearing hysteria. He wanted Papa. “I don’t want to be here.”

Shooting a look at the nurse, Dave hugged Kurt, “We’ll be back in a minute. They aren’t going to put your IV in while we’re not here. We just need you to talk to the nurse for 1 minute.”

Releasing Kurt, Dave stepped away. They walked away from the curtained area, waiting to be allowed back in.

Kurt wasn’t being exactly cooperative. After the nurse reassured him several times that he didn’t need to do anything he didn’t want to, and that they could help him if he was being hurt or coerced, he started crying.

“I just want to go home. I don’t want an IV.”

Dave walked in then; he had given them two minutes, but he was worried that Kurt was going to have a full blown toddler meltdown. Kurt would never forgive them if he let people see him like that.

“I understand,” he said. “You’re getting it. Non-negotiable,” Dave explained.

The nurse gave him a look, “Sir, we’re talking.”

Kurt had clambered out of bed, attaching himself to Papa. “Stay,” he whimpered. 

“Look,” Dave told the nurse, “We did what you asked. He’s scared. He’s sick. Just give him the damn IV, but I’m not going anywhere.” Picking Kurt up, he carried him back to the bed and put the oxygen mask back on. Leaning forward, he murmured, “Keep that on, or we can see what the nurse does if I spank you in front of her.”

Kurt lay back, keeping hold of one of Dave’s hands. “He’s right handed,” Dave told the nurse. 

She wasn’t happy about what was going on, but she decided to just insert the IV. Kurt wasn’t actively objecting; he was just saying that he didn’t want the IV. 

Luckily for Kurt, the nurse was good. She managed to thread the IV needle through his vein the first time. Blaine had rejoined them, and both men tried to keep Kurt’s mind off of what was going on. 

Once the IV was in, and the nurse left, Dave and Blaine talked with Kurt about staying.

“We understand that you don’t like the idea,” Dave told him. “I’m going to try to convince the doctor to let us take you home, but if she says you need to stay, that’s what’s happening. Understood?”

Kurt was tired; he wanted to keep arguing, but he didn’t want to get spanked again. He slowly nodded, “But you stay too,” he insisted.

Blaine snorted at that, “Do you really think they could make Papa leave?” he teased Kurt. “They couldn’t even get him to wait in the hallway for two minutes so the nurse could make sure we weren’t beating you.”

Kurt nodded, somewhat calmed by that promise. Dave had crawled into bed next to him, and he clutched him with both hands. “Promise,” he whispered.

“I swear,” Dave said. “If you have to stay, Daddy will run home and get you some stuff, and I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

Kurt nodded again. He was exhausted, having used up the last of his energy trying to get out of the IV. He dozed off and on against Dave, who stayed in the bed, rubbing his back. 

When the doctor got back, Dave tried to stand up so that they could talk, but Kurt whined fitfully in his sleep and wouldn’t let go of his shirt.

“Does he have to stay?” he asked.

Dr. Sanders told him, “It would be better.”

“Okay, but what are you going to do? Is it something we can’t handle at home? We’ll bring him back if he gets worse.”

Dr. Sanders sighed. “Once the IV runs through, he should feel better. If you promise to bring him back, he would probably be fine at home. But he needs to be kept calm and quiet in bed. You can’t let him get upset.”

“Fine,” Dave agreed. He wanted to take Kurt home. The hospital bed was uncomfortable, and Dave was reasonably certain that he could provide better food and rest in the comfort of their own apartment.

They waited impatiently until the IV was done. Kurt cried again when the IV had to be removed, but he perked up when he realized that meant he could go home. He had to sit through another exam as well as stern instructions.

He didn’t want to ride in the wheelchair, but a whispered order from Blaine made Kurt allow the orderly to transfer him. 

“I’ll get the car,” Daddy promised him, leaving Dave with Kurt. As soon as they hit the door, Papa picked Kurt up. Snuggling into his chest, Kurt coughed and slipped his fingers into his mouth. After he was settled into the car, head in Papa’s lap, he fell back to sleep, happy to have finally left the hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt slept through the drive home, waking up a little when he had to be shifted from the car into Papa’s arms. After mumbling something, they couldn’t tell what, he fell into a fitful sleep pressed against Papa’s chest.

He woke up several times during the night, coughing hard, but a dose of cough syrup and some water, and he was right back out. 

By the time the morning rolled around, Kurt was tired, and his chest was sore from coughing, but he was actually starting to feel better. The IV the night before had helped, and Daddy and Papa kept pushing more antibiotics and cough syrup on him. 

Daddy and Papa kept him in bed, giving him pretty much whatever he wanted. In the afternoon, they let him out to lounge on the couch. Wrapped in his blanket and cuddling with Beau, they plied him with soup and popsicles, trying to make him drink way more than he needed or wanted.

“Papa?” Kurt mumbled, drowsy from the cough syrup.

Dave dropped to sit beside him, “Yeah? What d’you need baby?”

“You read me stories please?” Kurt’s eyelids were drooping, and Dave thought he’d be better off napping. He’d been out of bed for close to three hours by now.

Dave stood back up, picking Kurt up and cradling him. “I would love to read you stories, but I think bed will be more comfortable for them.”

“Wan’ couch,” Kurt mumbled, even as he turned against Dave’s chest with a little sigh.

Dave nodded, carrying him back to the bedroom. “I know, but I want the bed kiddo. Shall we read Lafcadio again?”

Kurt smiled at that, although he didn’t last more than two pages before he was really out. Dave put the book aside and crept out of bed to join Blaine in the living room.

“He’s sleeping again?” Daddy asked, looking exhausted.

Dave nodded, leaning into Blaine. He was tired too.

“Wanna watch TV?” Blaine asked, turning it on. They made it through about 20 minutes of an old rerun before they both fell asleep on the couch.

Their Sunday was a repeat, Daddy and Papa trying to keep Kurt happy and entertained with books and other quiet activities when they couldn’t get him to nap. They were all tired, although everyone felt better by Sunday night.

When Monday morning rolled around, Papa got up with Daddy, leaving Kurt in his cough syrup induced sleep. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with me going to work?” Daddy asked worriedly, peeking back into the bedroom to look at Kurt.

Dave rolled his eyes. “We’ll be fine. I’ll text you around four and let you know what we need; I didn’t get a chance to grocery shop this weekend. Can you pick up dinner?”

“Let me know what,” Blaine told him. With a quick kiss, Daddy grabbed his travel mug of coffee and left for work.

Dave contemplated getting back into bed with Kurt, but he really wanted to see if he could get things put together before the baby woke up. He hadn’t only missed out on grocery shopping. They had laundry that needed to be done, and nobody had washed a dish or picked up anything since Kurt had gotten sick. It had only been a few days, but the apartment was a wreck.

He managed to work for about an hour before he could hear Kurt waking up. Hurrying back to the bedroom, he was greeted by a pouting baby, arms crossed over his chest. Kurt was sitting up in bed, glaring at Papa.

“You leaved me in here all by myself. Where’s Daddy?” Kurt demanded, in a rather adorable croaking voice.

Dave walked to the bed, raising a hand up to Kurt’s forehead to check for fever, “I was cleaning up kiddo. Daddy had to go to work.”

Kurt pulled away from Papa, “No touching Papa.”

“I’m checking for a fever,” Dave explained, hand following Kurt’s movements. When Kurt scooted away further than Dave could comfortably reach, he put his hand down on the bed. “We have to check your temperature baby. Then we’ll have some breakfast.”

Kurt shook his head pettishly, drawing his knees up. He was sick of getting poked at, and he wanted to be left alone.

“Kurt,” Papa said, warning in his voice, “That wasn’t a request. I’m going to get the thermometer from the bathroom. I’d like you on your tummy when I get back please.”

The bathroom was connected to the bedroom, so it only took a minute. Dave wasn’t surprised to find Kurt still curled in the same position, glaring at him, when he returned.

This was not going to be a fun day. Dave could tell. There was nothing he could do about it though. So, smiling at Kurt, Papa said, “I need you on your tummy baby. We’ve got to take your temperature before we eat some breakfast. What do you want to eat?” 

Kurt wasn’t fooled by this. Papa tried it sometimes, talking lightly and distracting him, but Kurt knew what it meant. It meant that Papa was about to do something that Kurt didn’t want him to do because Papa was mean.

“Don’t wan’ take my temp’ture.”

Dave nodded sympathetically, sitting beside Kurt and moving to rub his back, “I know pumpkin, but we need to.”

Kurt jerked away, glaring, “NO TOUCHING, PAPA.”

“Kurt, you don’t yell at Papa,” Dave remained calm. Kurt wasn’t feeling well.

“I telled you no touching me though. You’re not list’ning.”

Taking a deep breath, Dave counted to ten. “We have to take your temperature Kurt. I have to touch you to do that. Let’s just get it done with, and then we can do something else. Okay shorty?”

“I NOT SHORT!”

Dave stood up, walking out of the bedroom. He needed a minute. It had been days of taking care of Kurt, and he was sick of getting yelled at. Going to the kitchen, he got himself a drink of water before returning to the bedroom. Time to man up.

“We’re taking your temperature,” he said firmly. “I need you on your stomach for me please.”

Kurt stood up on the bed, wobbling a bit. Stomping his foot, he yelled, “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! You’re MEAN! I WANT DADDY!”

Papa was tired, which probably explained his response. Grabbing Kurt’s wrist, he jerked hard, making Kurt stumble. He would have fallen, but Papa kept his grip tight, and just swung him so he ended up on his stomach.

“I’m taking your temperature now,” he said, voice barely controlled. “If you keep fighting with me about it, you can get your bottom spanked first.”

“Nooooooo. You’re meeeeeeeean.” Kurt wailed, even as he held still. He didn’t want his stupid temperature taken. He wanted Daddy.

Dave tried to make it as quick and painless as possible. It was hard to not cave since Kurt was alternately crying and coughing now, but he forced himself to finish. It wouldn’t do any good to stop; they’d just have to start over.

While he waited, he rubbed Kurt’s back soothingly, half pinning him down, “I know buddy. It’s been a rough weekend, huh? We’ll get this over and done with, and I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Kurt growled. 

“Almost done baby,” Dave reassured.

As soon as Papa’s hand was not in the middle of his back, Kurt rolled. Dave just managed to get the thermometer, and he was not happy.

Placing the thermometer on the bedside table, Papa rolled Kurt back onto his back and swatted him half a dozen times. “Behave mister.”

Bursting into tears, in a reaction far beyond what would be normal, Kurt curled onto his side. “No mister, Papa.”

Dave was tired, but he pulled Kurt up onto his lap. “It’s okay baby. You’re okay. No more crying for me, okay?”

“Sorry Papa,” Kurt cried, cuddling against him. “I don’ feel good.”

“I know. Stop crying pumpkin; you’re going to feel worse if you keep it up.”

Kurt sniffled a little bit, but forced himself to swallow and stop crying. “Sorry Papa. I be good now.”

“Alright baby. Are you hungry?”

Kurt nodded, chin still trembling, “My throat hurts though.”

“Your throat hurts?” Dave asked sympathetically, standing up and shifting Kurt onto his hip. “How about trying something easy? I could make you some scrambled eggs?”

Kurt rested his head on Papa’s shoulder, “No eggs Papa. Salty.”

“No eggs?” Dave wandered to the kitchen, going through their options. After Kurt vetoed yogurt (too sour), oatmeal (too bland), and bananas (too banana-y), Papa sighed. 

“Popsicle, Papa? I think that would make my throat feel good.” Looking at Papa with wide eyes, he smiled.

Dave wanted to cave since Kurt was not crying, but he shook his head. “Popsicles aren’t breakfast food, baby. You want to try some soup?”

“Soup is not a breakfast food, Papa,” Kurt complained, giving him a look.

Considering what they had left in the house, Papa told Kurt, “You can have a banana with some peanut butter, yogurt with fruit, oatmeal with a banana in it, or some soup. Which would you like to eat?”

“Do we have noodles?” Kurt asked quietly.

Dave smiled at him, ruffling his hair, “We have noodles baby. You want some buttered noodles?”

“Then popsicle? Red popsicle?”

“Absolutely. If you eat noodles for me, you can have a popsicle.”

Kurt smiled, bouncing a little, “Red, Papa?”

“Red. Do you want to watch TV while Papa makes you breakfast?”

“Yes! Can I watch movies?”

Dave got Kurt settled onto the couch with Cinderella starting, then he returned to the kitchen to make breakfast. While the noodles cooked, he made a quick inventory of the kitchen, making a list to text Blaine.

Peeking his head into the living room, he asked, “Anything we should ask Daddy to get you from the store sweetheart?”

“Did he get my s’prise for taking the yucky med’cine?”

“I think so sweetheart. Should I ask him?”

“Uh huh. And I think I deserve extra s’prises for the needles too.”

“Anything else?” Dave asked.

Kurt thought for a minute, then said, “Lemon ice cream.”

“Alright kiddo. I’ll be out with breakfast in a minute, okay?” When Kurt nodded, Dave returned to the kitchen, sending Blaine a quick text before taking Kurt his breakfast.

They spent their morning watching movies. Kurt ate his fill of popsicles, not giving Papa anymore trouble until lunchtime, when Dave told him that he would have to take a nap after they ate.

“I don’ need nap Papa,” Kurt complained, shaking his head emphatically. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the hacking cough.

Dave stood up to go into the kitchen, “Are we going to eat in the kitchen?” he asked, ignoring the argument. He’d get Kurt fed, and then he’d give him cough syrup, and then Kurt would fall asleep while they read stories. Probably.

Nodding, Kurt followed Papa to the kitchen, happily accepting a sippy cup with fruit punch. He was sick of cranberry juice. Once he’d had enough to make the coughing stop, he began again, “I don’ need naps, Papa. I been sleepin’ for forever now; I wan’ stay up and play wif’ you.”

“We can play some more after nap, pumpkin,” Papa promised him. The slurred speech was a dead giveaway that Kurt needed to rest. “I promise. We can play whatever quiet, indoor game that you want to play.”

“But I don’ need nap.”

Bringing the hot soup to the counter, Papa placed it in front of Kurt, “You have to take a nap kiddo. Not a debate.”

“But I not sleepy, Papa,” Kurt complained.

Dave was saved from arguing about that by his cell phone ringing. Answering it, he smiled at Kurt, “It’s Daddy.”

“Daddy!” Kurt made grabby hands at the phone. There was no way that Blaine would make him take a nap when he wasn’t even a little, tiny bit tired.

“But that’s not fair!” 

Dave smiled as he listened to Kurt’s half of the conversation. Sometimes, it was nice to have someone else to be the bad guy.

Kurt was disgruntled when he finished the phone call, irritably eating about half of his soup before he allowed Papa to carry him to bed. He whined through Papa taking his temperature, and came very close to flat out refusing to take his cough medicine. Dave managed to skirt the argument by telling Kurt that he was going to take away his surprises if he didn’t behave.

Then, curled around Beau Bunny and studiously ignoring Papa, Kurt fell asleep.

Despite his assertions that he did not need a nap, Kurt slept for close to two hours before he woke up. Dave had been listening carefully, wanting to make sure to catch Kurt when he was still half asleep so that the thermometer would be less of a fight.

Yawning and whining, Kurt allowed Papa to take his temperature again, although he repeatedly stated that Papa was mean and not fair. Once Dave was done, he helped Kurt shimmy his pajama bottoms back up. Stretching out on the bed beside his boyfriend, Dave rubbed Kurt’s hip and smiled.

“100 degrees even kiddo. That’s the lowest it’s been since you got sick.”

That got a smile from Kurt, who nuzzled up against Papa. “Tomorrow, I’ll be all better, and we can go to the park.”

“Tomorrow,” Dave told him, smiling, “you’ll feel better, but we won’t be going to play outside in the cold and the wind. We can play inside. If you still feel better this weekend, we’ll go do something fun with Daddy.”

Kurt scrunched up his nose, thinking about complaining, but then he brightened, “Tomorrow is beauty parlor then Papa. You promised.”

Dave wasn’t thrilled with that idea, but he had promised. Deciding that this was a problem to worry about later, he offered, “Do you want to play on the laptop?”

Although Kurt used the computer for writing, Daddy and Papa had crazy ideas about how much computer time was good for little boys. Nibbling his lip thoughtfully, he said, in a wistful tone, “Online shopping Papa?”

Dave knew he should say no. It was one thing to allow Kurt to watch movies or play computer games; it was another thing entirely to allow him to shop when he’d already spent his clothing budget for the month (and Dave knew he had to have spent that if he was asking about shopping rather than saying that was what he wanted). But Kurt was so little and miserable, and Dave knew that they had the money...

“No more than $100, and I get to veto.”

Kurt cheered, which set off another paroxysm of coughing. Dave handed him yet another full sippy cup of diluted juice, then went to fetch the computer.

They spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed together, Kurt clicking through different sites until he found what he wanted. Dave ended up letting him spend more money than he had intended, but Kurt was acting sweet, and Dave rationalized it as one of the surprises for the IV.

When Daddy got home, he was happy to find them both happy. Kurt was still flushed slightly from his fever, and he was coughing, but it was the best that Blaine had seen him looking in days.

“How’s my favorite little boy doing?” Blaine asked, flopping onto the bed and smiling at Kurt.

When Kurt didn’t immediately respond, Dave told Blaine, “We’re doing a little shopping.”

“Where are my s’prises Daddy?”

Blaine leaned over the edge of the bed, snagging the bag he’d left. “I got you something fun to do with Papa while you’re still kind of sick,” he explained, handing the bag to Kurt.

Before Kurt could open the gift bag, Papa grasped the handles. “What do you say?” he asked.

“Thank you Daddy,” Kurt tossed off, eager to see what cough syrup and shots got him. Turning the bag upside down, he dumped out craft supplies.

“You were complaining that the jewelry for your game is tacky,” Blaine explained. “I figured you and Papa could make some new stuff tomorrow. Are you feeling better baby?”

Kurt nodded, studying the various beads, “Uh huh. ‘cept I’m still coughing a little bit, but I’m better now.” He picked up the clay, contemplating whether he should use that to make beads or pendants. Maybe rings.

“I brought home Italian,” Blaine told Dave. Looking at Kurt, he asked, “Are you feeling up to eating at the dinner table tonight?”

Kurt nodded, starting to climb out of bed before Papa stopped him, “You can eat at the table, but I want you to wait in here until I’ve got everything set up. And you need to wear slippers and a robe; I don’t want you getting cold.”

“Paaaappaaaaaa,” Kurt whined, even as he flopped backward and glared at the ceiling. He’d been in bed all day. Except for the little bit of time when he wasn’t, but still.

“Kuuuuu-uuuuurrt,” Dave whined back, tickling him a little, “I’ll be back to get you in five minutes kiddo.”

Dave filled Blaine in on their day while they got dinner out, then he went back to the bedroom, carrying Kurt, wearing his pajamas, a robe, slippers, and wrapped in a blanket, back out to the dining room table.

They had a pleasant meal, Kurt acting more or less normal, if a little more tired than usual. When dinner was over, Dave piled the dishes in the sink then picked Kurt back up.

“Papa! No more bed pleeeeease?” Kurt begged. He knew that he’d have to go to sleep soon, but he really didn’t want to have to spend the rest of the evening in there as well. “TV?”

Blaine smiled, reaching out to tweak Kurt’s heel. “Haven’t you watched enough TV already kiddo?”

“Nu uh,” Kurt said, shaking his head. His eyes were wide, and he was clearly trying to make his cutest face, “Not ‘nuff TV today yet Daddy. Not when I’m sick so I can’t do nothin’ else.”

Dave carried Kurt into the living room, putting him down on the couch, “I think he can watch a little more TV still.”

Kurt bounced and clapped his hands, grabbing for the remote. While Daddy and Papa cleaned up from dinner, he found cartoons. Cuddling against Beau, Kurt slipped his fingers into his mouth. Finally, he could breathe well enough through his nose that he could suck on his fingers.

When Daddy and Papa joined him, Kurt happily crawled into Blaine’s lap, accepting the bottle of fruit punch. Together, they watched television until bedtime. Dave was relieved to see that Kurt was feeling so much better, although he wasn’t looking forward to having to play beauty parlor tomorrow.


End file.
